


Down-low Dating

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: Convinced that Sharon and Steve are going to screw up when they start dating, Natasha and Bucky tag along in secret to offer encouragement, whether Sharon and Steve want it or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on captainamericadrama's [imagine!](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/captainamericadrama/160993664635) Written with permission after the idea got stuck in my head.
> 
> The fic is three chapters long and is set to go up daily!

The door slammed, and Bucky heard the unmistakeable sound of someone whistling. Logically, he knew it had to be Steve whistling, but it had been so long since he’d heard the sound that he had to stick his head into the hallway to double-check.

Steve had the audacity to beam at him before he returned to whistling even louder.

“What the hell are you so happy about?” Bucky demanded, even though he had a suspicion. He just didn’t think Steve would ever get off his ass and do it - not without help.

“I did it,” Steve announced, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “She said yes.”

Bucky stared at him. “Uh. You’re getting _married?_ ”

Steve pulled back, looking appalled. “What? No! It’s just a date! Just a date.” He quickly disappeared into his room, and seconds later, Bucky could hear him whistling again.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and considered what to do next. Sam would be happy for Steve, but Sam had a tendency to only see the best in Steve. Bucky needed someone who could see the other side of Steve.

If he were honest, he’d admit to himself that he’d been looking for a reason to text her.

Now he had one.

“Steve & Sharon are going on a date,” he typed. “It’s gonna be a disaster.”

“We should watch first-hand,” she replied. She added a smiley face.

* * *

Sharon peeked over the menu as Steve tugged at his tie again. She knew he could get nervous - in truth, it had always been one of the cutest things about him, in her opinion. She was a little concerned that he might be sweating, though. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like small beads of sweat were forming on his temples, and a man who could lift a bus shouldn’t be sweating just simply sitting across the table from her. Right?

“Something on my face?” Steve asked. He sounded like he was joking, but his face showed a trace of panic.

She smiled in a way she hoped would console him. “No!” Damn. He’d caught her staring. And now she sounded as if she’d _definitely_ been staring at his face. Especially his forehead. _Damn it._ Okay. Keep talking. Throw him off. “I mean, your nose, but I guess that’s technically... part... of your face.”

Shit.

She quickly ducked behind her menu and cleared her throat. “So, uh... what’s good here?”

“No idea,” Steve said. “People said this was a romantic pla- I mean, a good place to go. For- for a date. And I thought-”

She peeked at him over the menu again and grinned. “Well, it _is_ a date.”

He grinned back, then glanced at his own menu.

She returned to her own as well, trying to think of a nice way to say that this was all very nice, but the food all sounded atrocious and looked ridiculously overpriced.

“ _Madame, monsieur._ ”

They both glanced up to find the waiter holding a bottle of wine for their inspection. 

Steve’s nervousness surged, and he immediately straightened in his chair. “Uh, thanks, but we didn’t order any-”

“It’s been purchased _for_ you, _monsieur_.” The waiter immediately began pouring each of them a glass as Steve and Sharon stared at each other. They each absently thanked the waiter as he left and then turned to survey the restaurant.

“Second to last table, far wall,” Sharon said softly, glaring at the redhead who was currently toasting her. She turned back in time to see Steve flipping the table off, and he quickly dropped his hand. She raised an eyebrow. She didn’t think he was going to be any less nervous if he knew Bucky and Natasha were watching them eat. “I think I saw a food truck about three blocks away...”

Steve was on his feet in seconds, tossing some bills on the table. “Let’s do it. And let’s go before they follow.”

Even with sitting on a city curb that smelled like dogs were having a war over territory, it ended up being a great date.

* * *

Across the street, sitting on some steps and eating out of to-go cartons as they watched Sharon and Steve eating on the curb, Natasha grinned up at Bucky. “This was fun,” she said. “We should do it again.”

He grinned down at her, trying to ignore the way his heart was fluttering. “Sure thing.”


	2. Chapter 2

The second restaurant Steve chose was much more laid-back, the sort of place they would fit just fine in jeans and nice shirts. They were having a great time until a waiter brought drinks over, compliments of their friends.

Steve and Sharon thanked the waiter politely, and as soon as he was out of earshot leaned toward each other as they looked around the restaurant. Neither of them could quite accept that it had happened _again._

“I’m going to kill her,” Sharon said, her tone almost pleasant.

“I won’t kill him,” Steve said, “but I’ll definitely kick his ass.”

It took them several seconds to spot a raven-haired Natasha at the bar, a baseball-capped Bucky nearby. Natasha and Bucky each gave them a small wave, and Sharon flipped them off. After making sure there weren’t any children or cameras around, Steve did the same.

* * *

They were more careful on the third date, and yet, they still received a couple of drinks from their “friends” in the restaurant. It took them longer to spot their so-called friends this time - they’d dressed as cooks ( _cooks_ ) and were standing against the wall, pretending to straighten and restraighten a picture.

Mostly out of defiance, Sharon kicked back both drinks, staring at the two of them as she swallowed them both down. It was the most talkative Steve had ever seen her, and he not only enjoyed the date, but making sure she got home all right after.

* * *

The fourth date, Bucky and Natasha were both dressed as waiters. Natasha delivered the drinks to their table herself without them noticing, though they _did_ notice Bucky have to give Natasha some cash after. Evidently, Bucky had bet that Steve or Sharon would notice Natasha’s disguise, but Sharon and Steve had been too busy talking about political destabilization in South America to notice.

* * *

The fifth date, Sharon suggested they try a fast food place. Sure, it would be louder than some of the places they’d been, but there was less of a chance of Bucky and Natasha sending them drinks. Maybe even less of a chance of Bucky and Natasha crashing their date entirely.

But shortly after their food arrived, a couple of milkshakes arrived, too.

“How-” Steve stared at the two cups.

“You don’t deliver to tables,” Sharon accused the employee. “I checked. I _literally_ called yesterday and asked the person who answered the phone. No table delivery. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“Lady,” the employee shrugged. “Somebody gives me a hundred bucks to deliver a couple milkshakes, I’m gonna deliver the milkshakes.”

Steve covered her hand with his. Following his sightline, she saw Bucky and Natasha sitting across the restaurant. Both of them wore sunglasses and taped-on handlebar mustaches.

“Enjoy your meal,” the employee said, obviously thinking they were all weirdos but unwilling to risk losing the hundred dollars.

Natasha gave her mustache a twirl.

* * *

The next date, Bucky and Natasha were both disguised as elderly ladies, bent over at the waist. They’d brought knitting equipment with them to complete the disguise, but as neither of them was good at knitting, they wound up showing the waiters pictures of Natasha’s cats while Sharon and Steve searched for them in the next booth over.

* * *

The date after that, the two were dressed as frat boys at the bar.

* * *

The date after that, they were dressed as football fans, changing their voices to yell at the TV.

“Maybe next time, we go on a date where we can get our food so fast they don’t have time to send us anything,” Steve suggested.

She smiled at him. “Sounds great.”

* * *

“I can’t believe they didn’t recognize us!” Natasha griped as she pulled off her mustache. “They thought we were those football fans!”

“In their defense, no one wants to make eye contact with a hipster,” Bucky offered. “And you _did_ have that Greenpeace petition.”

Natasha stroked her fake beard. “True. We’ll have to go to extremes next time, though. I have just the thing...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late and a dollar short, but here's the final chapter!

Steve glanced behind him. Still nothing. “I think we did it,” he said. “It’s been forty minutes, and nothing.” He beamed at her. “I think we did it!”

Sharon sipped her wine, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Maybe.”

They had tried their damnedest this time. They wore disguises, they’d made reservations at multiple restaurants under fake names, cancelling them an hour before and going to a completely different restaurant. They had taken multiple cabs. It had been like one of her old tests to graduate from the Academy. Truth be told, tonight had been fun even before they’d gotten to the restaurant.

The problem was, now that they were both sitting down to their meal - they’d even started _eating_ without being sent any drink - both of them were getting paranoid. Natasha and Bucky were too good at spying not to be able to find them here, and that the two hadn’t made themselves known yet meant they likely had something far, far worse in mind for her and Steve.

“Let’s get dessert to-go,” she said.

“Eat on the curb again?” He tried to waggle his eyebrows at her and failed.

She hid her smile with her wine glass. “I was thinking we could go to my place, actually. I’m almost certain Natasha won’t try anything if she sees a tie on the bedroom door.”

He stopped trying to waggle his eyebrows, and his expression went slack. He quickly shook his head. “Uh- Uh, yeah. If you- if you think that would work.”

“We don’t have to have sex,” she offered. “Just watch Netflix in bed or something. Eat dessert.”

“Right,” Steve said, looking almost like he was afraid to look at her but also as if he didn’t dare look away. “We don’t _have_ to.”

She set down her wine glass. “There’s a chance we might, though.”

“A chance,” he echoed, nodding.

They looked at each other for several seconds.

“I have ice cream in my freezer,” she said. “And some candy. That’s technically dessert, right?”

“Good enough for me.” He lifted a hand to call for the bill.

* * *

Bucky reached for the bedside clock and groaned. “Natasha. Natalia. We’ve got to go. They’re probably almost through their main course.”

He felt her hands trace his muscles on his back, then felt her press her bare skin against his as she hugged him from behind. “They’ll be fine on their own for a night, James.”

He twisted to look at her, and she kissed his shoulder. Part of him almost wished she wouldn’t; they’d already broken an alarming amoung of furniture and decor as they’d crashed around her apartment, kissing each other, touching each other.

He wanted to pay her back for everything they’d broken, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to afford to if they kept it up.

“I thought you had an idea for something.”

Natasha smiled at him, amused. “James. _This_ was the idea.”

“ _This_ was the idea,” he repeated dumbly.

She sighed. “Does this mean you didn’t notice that we’ve been dating this whole time?”

He gaped at her. Slowly, he started to smile. He _had_ been brainstorming ways to talk to her before all of this had started. And he _had_ wanted to talk to her so that they could go out. Even when they’d been eating, he’d thought-

Well, it didn’t matter now. He wasn’t even upset. He admired that she’d found a way to do what he’d been too hesitant to do.

“So we don’t have to go anywhere,” he said, just to be sure.

“Nope. I already made arrangements for that. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”

His smile widened. “Good.” 

He twisted and pulled her into his arms.

“Let’s break some more of my stuff,” she said, pleased.

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning, and Sharon lay against Steve as he traced shapes on her skin. She felt languid and loose.

Steve nuzzled the top of her head. She now knew that he could be ready to go again, and quickly. She smiled to herself as she made a mental note to work on her endurance.

The two of them froze at the knock on Sharon’s door. One glance between them confirmed that neither of them had been expecting company.

He was up in a flash, pulling on his pants as she tugged the sheet off the bed and grabbed her gun from the bedside table.

She hid the gun behind her back, ostensibly holding the sheet in place, as she looked through the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone.

Maybe it was the wrong address, she considered. Or a prank.

It was still best to make sure.

Slowly, she opened the door.

And found a bottle of wine with a small card. Opening it, all she saw was a smiley face.

“I’m going to kill her,” she said decisively.

Steve stuck his head out of the hallway and checked to make sure the coast was clear. He glanced back at her. “In the morning, though, right?”

“Yeah, definitely tomorrow,” Sharon said, distracted. How had Natasha _known?_ Where was she? Had she managed to disguise herself as a door? “Er, later today, I mean.”

Steve scooped up the wine. “Good. Because I was thinking we could do something else in the meantime.”

Sharon lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, she closed the door. She locked it, just in case Natasha was out there somewhere, and then turned to Steve. “Sounds like a plan.”

He glanced at the bottle’s label as he wrapped an arm around her back. “Maybe I should us some glasses for this while I’m at it. I don’t know enough about wine to know if this is a good one or not. Do you know if this one’s any good?”

She threaded her fingers through his fingers on her waist. “Good enough for me.”


End file.
